


Wartime Promotions

by lady_nocturne



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, In more ways than one, Post-Battle of Winterfell, Smut, mild s8e4 spoiler in notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 07:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_nocturne/pseuds/lady_nocturne
Summary: The aftermath of the Battle of Winterfell from a third-person limited (Brienne) POV. I am fully on the Jaime/Brienne ship after S8E2, so this is how I'd love to see this pan out in the show (I know it won't.) The rating is for the smut I will eventually get to.





	1. Chapter 1

Brienne and Jaime were past the point of fatigue. Their entire world had narrowed to the reach of their swords--backs against the wall, swinging and slashing in a desperate, losing battle as the wights poured over them. Each was aware of the other at their side, focused on their own fight, but ready to protect the other. Yet the relentless onslaught of wights was approaching like a tsunami, and Jaime and Brienne knew that it was only a matter of time until it overwhelmed them both.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the world stopped. Every wight crumpled so immediately that the knights continued blindly thrusting and slashing for a few more seconds, until the stillness registered. Jaime’s sword hand was the first to fall, and he turned to look at Brienne. She was still in battle mode--sword held high, eyes wild and exhausted, every muscle in her body coiled to spring forward. She turned to his gaze, and as their eyes met, any residual strength remaining in his body ebbed out of him like his life’s blood. In two steps, she crossed the space between them, caught him before he collapsed onto the ground, and his world went dark.

*******

As the survivors cautiously ventured in horror from the crypt, Tyrion was the first to find them huddled together, backs still against the parapet, the dead and the wights layered deep before and beneath them. Brienne was kneeling, her arms wrapped around Jaime to hold him up, her head slumped atop his, her eyes closed.

“Ser Brienne,” Tyrion called hesitantly. Her eyes opened, and while they focused on Tyrion, he knew that she didn’t really see him. He looked down at his brother, cradled in her arms. “Is he--”

Brienne slowly shook her head. Blood dripped from a wound on her temple and oozed down her cheek, and when she opened her mouth, it was a moment before she could speak.

“No,” she rasped. “Wounded, but it isn’t mortal.”

Tyrion called to Pod, and Brienne realized that she had completely forgotten about the man to her left. She looked up as he stumbled over, registering that he was at least physically whole, but too exhausted to feel even faint relief. Tyrion gestured with his head, and Pod reached down to Jaime. Together they lifted him to a standing position and pulled his arms over their shoulders, carrying him down the pile, away from the death. A large wound on Jaime’s hand dripped blood onto Brienne’s shoulder, mingling with her own from the wound on her temple.

Together Brienne and Podrick half carried, half dragged Jaime through the long corridors of Winterfell, with Tyrion close behind. As they reached the long corridor outside his room, Jaime stirred and groaned, then put his feet firmly on the ground and stood, still leaning on them for support. He opened his eyes and locked them with Brienne’s, then shook off both her and Podrick until he was standing unassisted.

From behind them, Tyrion said, “Ser Brienne, please assist Ser Jaime. Podrick will bring you warm water and towels, as well as anything else you require.” Brienne nodded, and both Tyrion and Podrick turned and retreated back down the corridor. Faintly, Brienne could hear wails and screams and groans from outside, but inside the corridor, there was only silence. 

She turned to open the door to Jaime’s room, bending down to clear a dead wight out of the way. As she watched Jaime limp wordlessly through the door, she became acutely aware of her own fatigue, of the weight of her armor, of the throbbing of the wound on her temple, of the leaden feeling in her sword arm. In the fireplace, the embers of the fire, unstoked through the night, smouldered and smoked, and as Brienne gingerly knelt to add more wood, Jaime collapsed into a facing chair and closed his eyes. The fire sputtered back to life, and Brienne sunk backwards onto the hearth, sitting on the floor and leaning back against Jaime’s knees. 

*******

Podrick found them there ten minutes later. Brienne’s eyes were closed, and her head lay on Jaime’s hand, which was resting on her shoulder. Pod knocked lightly on the open door, and Jaime opened his eyes. Seeing Pod, he touched Brienne’s cheek and quietly said her name.

Brienne opened her eyes and fixed them on Pod, then stood and went to him. “Thank you, Podrick,” she said, taking the large basin of steaming water, several towels, and a pile of rags to use for bandages from his hands and setting them on a small table next to the fire.

Pod nodded. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Ser?”

Brienne started, realizing that he was addressing her. As she looked at Pod, she saw for the first time that his forearm was shredded and bloody, like a wight had ripped it open with its teeth, and she guiltily realized that he was just as spent as the rest of them. She shook her head and then tilted it toward the open door. “No. Please, go take care of yourself, and get rest, for there is much work ahead. Leave us--I will come if I need anything else.”

Pod nodded and retreated, closing the door behind him. Brienne turned around to find Jaime standing in front of the fire, eyes closed, looking only marginally better than she remembered in the weeks after he had lost his hand. She returned to him and touched him gently on the shoulder. “Ser Jaime,” she said softly, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Jaime opened his eyes and fixed them on Brienne’s, then reached to unbuckle his armor. This process typically necessitated two hands, and was further complicated by the wound on his hand, which still seeped blood. Brienne stepped forward and, to spare him the embarrassment of continued fumbling, she reached out and began to unbuckle it for him. She kept her eyes fixed on her shaking hands, but no blush of embarrassment stained her cheeks. 

Piece by piece she removed his armor and laid it on the floor behind him, then, pausing only briefly, unbuckled his brigandine and added that to the pile. Underneath it he wore a heavy wool tunic, the shoulder stained with blood, and she realized that a wight must have angled a spear just right to get it between the joints in his armor. Her hands moved to the laces of the tunic and then stopped, uncertain if she should continue. She felt him nod, and looked up to see that his eyes were closed.

Brienne removed Jaime’s tunic and linen shirt, and then he stood before her bare from the waist up. Despite his armor, his body was bruised, battered, and bloody, and at close range she noted old scars that she had missed as they soaked in the tub at Harranhall those many lifetimes ago. She turned and picked up one of the towels Pod had brought, and, dipping it into the warm water, began to gently sponge his body. His shoulder wound was superficial, but the one on his left hand was more severe, and he hissed as her towel touched it. 

She pulled the towel away, and continued cleaning the rest of his upper body, wiping the gore of battle away from his body and rinsing the stench of death from his hair. She unbuckled and removed his golden hand, setting it on the table next to the bowl of water, and cleaned his stump, which was red and irritated. His eyes stayed closed as she gently cleaned the grime off his face in small swirls, rinsing his beard as best as she could. Then she lay the towel down on the table, turned, and gestured to the chair.

“Sit,” Brienne said, and without opening his eyes, Jaime backed into the chair and sat heavily down. She dipped the towel into the water again and knelt before him, taking his hand in both of hers to gently clean the wound. It appeared that a spear had penetrated his gauntlet above his thumb and traveled half the length of his forearm, tearing the skin and muscle, but thankfully Brienne did not see any bone evident. She rinsed it as best as she could, then reached behind her to the table for the rags that Podrick had brought for bandages. 

She wrapped his hand and arm tightly and lay it back down on his knee. Then, her heart quickening, she removed his boots. As she set them aside, Jaime again stood, and she unlaced his trousers and leggings and gently slid them down his legs. He stepped out of them, and stood before her in his smallclothes. She repeated the bathing process with his lower body, dipping the towel and sponging and wiping until he was as clean as she could get him, and two unspeakably filthy towels lay on the floor next to her.

As she slowly stood, Jaime took a deep, shuddering breath, then rose with her, opened his eyes, and locked them on hers. “Brienne--” he started.

Uncomfortable, she began to turn away from him. “Ser Jaime, you need your rest. Please let me know if--”

He interrupted her with a low command. “Brienne. Please. Stop. Let me.”

She turned back and met his eyes. She saw exhaustion and pain, but she also saw the same indescribable look he’d had on his face when she knelt before him to take her vow as a knight. Her throat tightened and she opened her mouth, but found that she could not produce any sound, so instead she nodded, her entire body tensing as if she was going back into battle.

Jaime reached for the buckles on Brienne’s armor, but, as with his own, he struggled with the clasps with only one partially functioning hand. She placed her hands on his and helped him, then dropped them to her side as he removed it and placed it atop his in the pile on the floor. Her brigandine, tunic, and linen blouse came next, and then she stood before him as he had minutes before, bare from the waist up. Her face was red and her jaw set, but as she stared straight ahead, her shoulders slumped, finally allowing herself to relax just a bit. 

Quietly, Jaime repeated the ablutions she had performed on him, cleaning her body of horror, wiping her face, and rinsing her hair. He gently attended to the wound on her temple, finding a large scrape and bruise, but nothing severe. “Head wounds always bleed more,” he murmured to her as he gently dabbed at her temple with his good hand, cradling her head with his stump. As he ran the towel down her neck, he caressed the scars on her collarbone from the bear pit at Harranhall, and she shuddered involuntarily.

When he had finished, he held her head for a moment longer. Brienne continued to gaze over his shoulder, but her jaw was soft and her eyes now looked tired rather than wary. He ran his stump slowly down her cheek to her shoulder, then gently pushed. “Sit,” he ordered. Silently, she complied. 

He knelt before her and removed her boots, and Brienne stared at the top of his head, at the hair and the shoulders she had just touched so intimately, and wondered where this was going, and where it would stop. She realized that at this point, she really didn’t care--she was so exhausted that she was unable to think past the moment, and her eyes closed.

As he lay her boots aside, she stood, and he unlaced her breeches and leggings and slid them down until she stood before him in her smalls. As he cleaned her, she was aware only of the warmth in her body where he touched her, and of the ragged, drained sound of his breathing as he moved back and forth. 

When he finished, he stood and took her hand in his. “Come lie with me,” he said in a low voice, and, too exhausted to protest, she followed. Together they fell into his bed and, side by side, sank immediately into sleep together.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Brienne became aware of was the pain. She was no stranger to that particular demon, but this was like nothing she had ever felt--her entire body felt as if she had been crushed. She struggled through the murky depths to clear her head, which was throbbing like the Unsullied marching triple time. 

All in a rush, the previous night’s battle events of yesterday came back to her, and she scrambled to jump out of bed while still desperately trying to gather her wits. As her feet touched the floor, she remembered where she was, and with whom, and her stomach jumped. She slowly turned to look at Jaime, who was still deeply asleep in the bed they had just shared. For one long moment, she allowed herself to take a lingering gaze at the bruised, scarred plane of his back.

A door slamming in the hallway and voices yelling outside jolted her back into awareness. She glanced at the window--last night’s storm had cleared, and the winter midday sun was low on the horizon. She sighed, then leaned over and shook Jaime’s shoulder. “Ser Jaime,” she called, “It’s time to get up. We’ll be needed.”

Without either inhibition or conversation, they dressed, Brienne helping Jaime buckle his brigandine, then left the room, grimly ready to face the brutal task they knew lay ahead.

***********

All survivors of the Battle of Winterfell came together to begin the grueling horror of cleanup. Every person who knew how to read and write was pressed into service to help catalog the dead--one list for Dothraki, one for Unsullied, one for Karstark men, one for Free Folk, and on. Numbers were counted, and names recorded when known. Dead men and horses were piled into towering pyres, to be set alight at dusk by Drogon and Rhaegal. 

The rest of the short day and into the long night, Brienne and Jaime worked side by side, and by the time they silently took their supper in the great hall, they were nearly as filthy and drained as they had been the previous night. As they stood to leave the table, Jaime touched Brienne’s hand, and their eyes met. She nodded, then followed him back to his room, where a steaming bowl of water and pile of towels awaited. 

Wordlessly, for no words were possible after the events of the previous 24 hours, they repeated the gentle ritual of the previous night, undressing and cleaning each other. Finally, they again collapsed together into the bed. The next two days were the same--Brienne woke first and stole a long moment to gaze at Jaime, before rousing him to begin a long day of cleanup together. Each night they bathed each other, then collapsed exhausted into bed together, limbs lightly touching. 

On the afternoon of the third day, the storm clouds returned, and by nightfall a blizzard was raging around the great stone walls of Winterfell. The cleanup work ended early, and that night dinner in the great hall was filled with conversation instead of bone-weary, devastated silence. It was low, muttered conversation to be sure, but for the first time since the battle, it seemed as though some semblance of normalcy might return. Jaime and Brienne supped together as on previous nights, but this time, when they had finished, instead of touching her hand, Jaime took it, and together they walked hand-in-hand back to his room.

As they once again undressed and bathed each other, the act was for the first time tinged with sensuality rather than fatigue. Brienne’s hands lingered down Jaime’s back, and Jaime’s hand threaded itself through her hair. As he washed Brienne’s chest, his fingers edged off of the towel to trace the curve of her breast, and, as she drew in a sharp breath, her nipple pebbled under his touch. He worked his way down her body, hooking his fingers in her smallclothes and drawing them down. She stiffened but did not resist, and stepped out of them, standing fully nude before him for the first time since the baths at Harranhall. The fire flickered and crackled as she watched him step out of his own, and together they took to the bed. As in nights past, they immediately tumbled into sleep, peaceful and warm as the storm beat against the shutters outside, and as the depths of sleep overtook her, Brienne was dimly aware of Jaime’s lower legs entwining her own.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's that smut that y'all wanted. Very mild S8E4 spoilers in the notes. Happy endings for everyone!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES: I had this chapter mostly written before S8E4 aired, and was hoping to get it done and posted, but I have had family in town and didn’t have a spare moment to do so. And now that I’ve seen the episode, I’m (a) hating the writers for the direction they went with Brienne & Jaime, and (b) cracking up, because I literally considered using an almost identical line to Jaime’s about “I’ve never slept with a knight” but left it out because I thought it was too fucking cheesy. LOL.
> 
> Needless to say, I'm not happy with how things ended up, so it was even more important to me to finish and post this fic!

At the dawn of the fourth day, the blizzard raged on in the north, but inside Jaime’s room at Winterfell, the shutters were drawn tight, and the smouldering fire in the hearth kept the chill at bay. Brienne woke slowly, feeling relaxed and peaceful for the first time in longer than she could remember. As she drifted in the twilight between waking and sleep, she realized that Jaime’s arm was draped over her hips, and, for once, it didn’t bother her in the least. Then, in a totally uncharacteristic move, Brienne rolled into Jaime’s warm, snoring bulk, and slid back into slumber, an almost imperceptible smile on her face.

****  
A mosquito was on her neck. No, an entire swarm of mosquitos. Brienne felt them crawling around and jumped, reaching back to slap them away.

“Ow!! What in seven hells was that for!?!?”

Brienne’s eyes shot open in confusion. The mosquitos on the back of her neck were in fact beard prickles, and she had just slapped Jaime Lannister in the face. Her entire body stiffened as she realized that she was completely nude and spooned full-length against him, his head nuzzled in her neck, his arm circling her waist, and… well, what she assumed was his very hard cock, nestled in the cleft of her rear.

She had no clue what to do, so she simply did nothing, waiting for… actually, she didn’t know what came next.

Jaime’s hand touched her arm and glided up her shoulder. “Good morning to you too,” he teased, and she could hear the grin in his voice. “This isn’t how I had hoped to awake, but now that we’re here…” his voice trailed off hopefully, and he nuzzled her neck again.

Brienne jumped. “That tickles!”

She could hear the smirk in his voice. “Oh, so the lady is ticklish! Did you want me to stop?” His hand slid back around her waist, then his thumb twitched upward, lightly brushing her ribs.

Brienne squirmed, and, inexplicably, a giggle escaped her throat. “Jaime!” she squeaked.

“If you bid me stop…” he murmured, burying his face in her neck and nuzzling her ear, his thumb sneaking further upward.

The sensations were almost overwhelming to Brienne, who was completely adrift with how to handle the situation. She didn’t want him to stop, yet--

Brienne grabbed Jaime’s hand as it inched its way upward. “Oh, so you do want me to--” he started, then abruptly ceased as she placed his hand over her breast. Simultaneously, they both took a deep, shaky breath, then she felt him relax against her, his arm softening and his lips finding her ear. His thumb traced a C under her breast as two fingers gently pinched her nipple, which had already hardened from the attention. She breathed out slowly, nervous but wanting.

Jaime’s breath tickled her ear. “Brienne, you don’t--”

Brienne pushed away from him, then rolled over to face him. Her face was solemn, yet no trace of her nerves were evident. She looked him directly in the eye, opening her mouth to speak, then pausing to measure her words. She considered and discarded several thoughts, then opted, as always, for the simple, direct route.

“Jaime, you once protected my virtue. Now…” she stuttered briefly, “Now, I now bid you take it.”

For a long moment, the two knights stared at each other. Neither was sure who moved first, but all at once their mouths met, and hands were roaming over each other’s bodies, trying to learn by touch what they’d once explored only with their eyes. Jaime locked legs with Brienne and tried to roll her onto her back, but her fighting instinct kicked in automatically, and she flipped him over and pinned him down on the bed before realizing in horror what she’d done. 

Brienne sat up and closed her eyes in embarrassment, only to open them when she heard Jaime… laugh? Indeed, he had a grin on his face, a glint in his eye, and, as she realized, a very hard cock pressed between her legs. “So that’s how you like it?” he smirked.

Brienne blushed red to the root of her hair. “No!! I mean, yes!! I mean-- Oh STOP.” She leaned down to kiss that stupid smug look off of his face, and in doing so, ground herself on his cock. Jaime groaned and reached for Brienne’s breast, then leaned down to scrape his teeth lightly over it. This time it was her turn to moan. She looked down between them and watched Jaime’s mouth as it nibbled and suckled on her breast, and watched his hand as it slid lower between them until it his fingers were lightly tickling the fur over her mound. 

He raised his eyes up to hers, and she parted her legs a bit more in response. She jumped when his fingers glided over her, then arched her back and moaned when he started to circle the hood above her most sensitive spot with his thumb. He gently worked his fingers around as they both learned how much speed and pressure she liked, and then Brienne couldn’t watch any more as the sensations overtook her. Her breath came in pants as her whole world narrowed to the spot between her legs, unsure of what she was chasing, but knowing that she had to get there.

Right as Brienne felt like she couldn’t take any more of Jaime’s thumb circling her clit, he slid two fingers deep inside of her cleft, pushed up, and crooked them forward. She instantly broke, crying out with a sob and pushing down hard on his hand, forcing it more deeply into her. Her walls clenched and unclenched around his fingers, and she didn’t hear his agonized hiss over the roar of the blood in her ears as she trembled and shook with the waves of her first orgasm.

Slowly her vision returned, and she looked down at Jaime, who had withdrawn his hand and was carefully flexing his wrist with a pained look on his face. She had completely forgotten that, while the injury he’d received in the battle with the wights was healing, it was still raw and tender, and she immediately felt guilty. She reached down and took his hand in both of hers, brought it to his mouth, and gently kissed it. Holding her gaze, he withdrew his hand, then, tantalizingly, licked her juices off of his fingers one at a time.

Brienne caught her breath--she had just finished the most intense sexual experience of her entire life, yet watching him lick his fingers had her tingling again. Surely she couldn’t be ready already? She looked between them again, where Jaime’s cock was throbbing between them. Uncertain, she reached tentatively down to touch it, and his hand covered hers to stop her. She looked at him in confusion. His face was strained, but she didn’t think it was because his hand still pained him.

“Brienne,” he breathed, a ragged edge to his voice, “When we…” He took another breath. “I do not want to leave you with a child. Not now.” 

She nodded slowly, overwhelmed by the implications. “When I pull out of you, I want you to take me in hand like this.” He guided her hand along his cock, showing her what he liked, until her strokes moved from hesitant to confident. 

When he couldn’t take any more, he moved his arms to her shoulders, and then pushed-pulled-rolled her until she was underneath him. This time, she let him. His hand cupped her breast and squeezed it lightly, then slid down between them, and he took himself in hand and guided himself toward her entrance, already slick from his previous ministrations. She raised up her knees to allow him room, and shuddered as she felt his blunt, hot hardness pushing against her.

Jaime took a few shallow exploratory strokes, then reached for Brienne’s hand. He laced his fingers in hers and pushed it up over her head, until he was leaning over her, his hand in hers, their faces inches apart. He leaned down and their lips met, and as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, he steadily pushed his cock into her body. She bit his bottom lip as the unfamiliar sensation hurt a bit, but then she relaxed and felt him slide all the way in to the hilt. When he reached bottom, he nudged something inside her, and she jumped and moaned at the unfamiliar yet incredible sensation.

“Are you--?” Jaime murmured into Brienne’s mouth, and she nodded.

“It’s good. Don’t stop.”

Slowly Jaime withdrew almost completely from Brienne, and then pushed himself back into her. He watched her face as he gradually increased his thrusts, watched as her eyes closed and her jaw tightened, watched as her mouth opened and she started to moan. His fingers clenched white-knuckled in hers, and his arms started to shake with the strain of both holding himself up and holding himself back as he drove her up. 

She writhed under him and arched against him, closer and closer, until finally she came around his cock, calling his name and squeezing his hand until he thought she might break his fingers. 

As she came back down, he couldn’t wait anymore, and he said her name sharply as a warning. “Brienne!”

She opened her eyes and saw the raw, powerful need on his face--need for her to give him what he had given her so freely. Her heart shifted in her chest, and she reached down and, when he withdrew, took him in hand. Once, twice, three strokes was all it took, and, with a shout, he spent himself on her hand and thighs. 

Shaking, he collapsed on top of her, his face buried in her neck, his hand in her hair. Brienne wrapped her body around his, holding him and trying to preserve the most amazing moment of her life, and the wonder he’d shared with her. Together they drifted for several long minutes, and as Jaime came back to full consciousness, he marveled at the strength of the woman below him, and how he did not have to worry about bearing his full weight on her. He realized that she was cradling him against her, and the realization made him feel strangely comforted. 

Thoughts swirled in Jaime’s head, then all at once aligned. He rolled off of her onto his side, taking her hand with him, and looking into her eyes. Her face was serious, but her eyes were happy, and softer than he had ever seen them.

“Brienne,” he started, then stopped. She searched his face, then slowly nodded.

“That night—“ there was no need to ask to which night he was referring, “I asked you to kneel because I wanted to right a wrong that had been perpetrated upon you by so many for so long.” He paused, then continued, “And as you took your vow, I knew at that moment that there was no one on whose side I would rather be, in battle and in life, than you.”

Brienne closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they were shimmering with tears, but they were steady as they gazed into Jaime’s. “Jaime. I love you.”

He took her hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it gently. “Ser Brienne of Tarth… Ser Brienne of the Battle of Winterfell, marry me so that I may stay by your side forever, in battle and in life.”

To his surprise, she laughed. Bemused, he queried, “Brienne?”

Brienne grinned wider than he’d ever seen, and replied, “This reminds me of an old saying—‘Wartime promotions come quickly.’”

Jaime opened his mouth to reply with one of his usual quips, but it caught in his throat. Instead, he squeezed her hand. “I don’t want to wait, Brienne. When we take the Kingsroad south, I want it to be as husband and wife. I don’t know what lies ahead, but I know how I want to face it, and that is with you.”

As mutely as she had knelt before him three nights before, she nodded, then kissed him and wrapped her arms around him. Burying her face in his neck, she whispered, “Yes. Yes I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you Youtuber TheCell8 for their compilation video of Jaime and Brienne scenes from S2-S4!


End file.
